Longing
by MelanyeBaggins
Summary: In the aftermath of Helm's Deep, Eowyn finds unexpected comfort in one of the three hunters. AU. Completed.
1. Longing

This is a vignette from Eowyn's pov. As always, please comment, and NO, I DO NOT OWN LOTR, SO LEAVE YOUR LAWYERS BE!

Now, on with the story.

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Longing…

This gathering was to pay tribute to the honored dead- the men of Rohan who valiantly sacrificed themselves so that we could live. I stood beside my uncle and brother and drank to their memory, feeling the bitterness in my heart momentarily soothed by the bitterness of the draught. 

After a moment of silence the gathering broke up, as the survivors – our living heroes – began joyfully, sometimes sorrowfully sharing stories of those who had been lost. Myself, I took leave of my family to mingle with our people and to perhaps, warm a few frozen hearts. As I headed towards a group of soldiers my eye was caught by someone across the room. 

I stopped and stared, drinking in the vision my eyes have found - one of the only three who was not of Rohan, but perhaps more deserving of this honor than all of them together. I caught a flash of bright blue eyes and felt myself fall prey to their beauty. How many other women had stared into them, held fixed by their spell?

Suddenly, feeling self-conscious, I stepped behind the nearest pillar and hid behind it as I stared, feeling almost as if I were stalking him. I couldn't help myself- all I could think of was how beautiful he was, how fair and noble and regal – acting in this moment very much like the King he could one day become. The very air about him seemed royal.

I had also heard about his skill as a warrior, how quickly and fearlessly he'd defended our people. His weapons always found their mark, almost as if they were an extension of himself. 

I caught myself wondering what it would be like to be married to such a person- a thought ever present in my mind these days. Among the Rohhirim there were many men who were noble indeed, but none would match him. None could. He was one who I would be proud to call my husband, and my uncle would be positively overjoyed for me. 

Suddenly, even as my thought ended, his eyes flashed up once more, piercing me with their light. I realized too late that he was looking at me – he'd seen me. Was that…a smile? He'd not only caught me staring, but he was pleased that he had? Quickly I backed away, hiding further behind the pillar so that I could finally wrench my eyes from his. I turned to look around me, to see if anyone else had noticed when I saw Eomer watching from behind an adjacent pillar. He held my gaze for a moment, as if trying to read my thoughts or intentions, before nodding to me with a smile and turning to leave.

I blushed a fierce scarlet at the thought of him knowing. My own brother finding out about my foolish little crush. Foolish indeed! How could he ever return my feelings? I am only the niece of the King, not a princess that would befit one as noble as he. Nay, I say to myself, it could never be. I finally resign myself to leave him alone, and to not covet what I could never have. 

After all, he is an Elf.


	2. Tempting

Tempting

Introduction: Since there were so many requests for a sequel for 'Longing', my muse obliged. Enjoy.

*if there are more requests there may be another…*

I stand at the back of the room, not really a part of the ceremony taking place around me. I am not Rohhirim, but still I feel the loss of their kin as if I were. My head bowed, I remember all those who had been in the armory that night, when I lost my temper with Aragorn – something I still regret. Very few of them lived, as I'd feared.

After a few words and a moment of silence the group breaks up. Gimli and I sit at a table near where we were standing. The hobbits join us soon after, bearing four mugs of ale which they pass around to each of us. I wonder idly where Aragorn is as I sip the golden brew, controlling the grimace that threatened to show on my face. 

After several minutes of silence I look up, sensing that I am being watched. At first I don't see who it is, instead catching a glimpse of Aragorn in the crowd talking with Theoden. But then, movement to the right draws my attention, until I see two curious blue eyes staring at me. It's her – the King's niece. I'd met her a few times before in Edoras, and at Helm's Deep, but we don't really know each other. We never had much interest in each other, but now things seem to have changed.

She was partially hidden by the pillar she stood behind, but I could see her face, feel her eyes tracing the lines of my face and upper body. Beside me, I hear Gimli and the hobbits talking softly but I ignore them as I stare back at the woman. Soon I become as captivated with her as she seems to be with me. 

I know what she's thinking, or at least I think I do. I've spent enough time with mortals to know the look of longing that comes into their eyes when they see something they could never have. Looking at it now, I recognize it as one I've worn on my own face time and again. She wonders if she will ever marry, just as I. 

In this broken world with few kingdoms, it's hard for eligible royals to find a mate. I imagine she's having the same problems I am…the same loneliness. I could talk to her, tell her I share similar feelings, but then the way she's looking at me…she may offer to try to relieve them. 

Not that I'd be opposed to the idea.

She is indeed fair, even according to elven standards. A fine woman to be sure, trained as a fighter, skilled in many crafts, yet still a lady in every respect. Strong and noble of character and no doubt versed in many subjects of lore and history of her people as well as several others. She would indeed make a fine wife, an honor to the house of Thranduil. But then, she is a mortal. 

Father would hate it.

I feel a slow smile begin to spread across my face at that one thought. Yes, he would hate it, wouldn't he? He would absolutely despise the thought of one of his sons marrying a human. But then, no. I could not marry purely for the merit of annoying my father, no matter how amusing that may be. I could never be so cruel as to drag another into it. But then…

Suddenly the eyes disappear behind the pillar. She noticed my eyes on her. I feel confusion as a pang of loss enters my heart. Was I really enjoying her presence that much? Maybe there is something there. Perhaps I could find her later and-

What are you thinking? Snap out of it! This is a war – you can't be thinking about going on dates with pretty human girls, no matter how tempting it is! It's just not possible. Besides, she fancies Aragorn, not you! 

Then why haven't my eyes left the pillar? 


	3. Hoping

AN: Here you are my friends! Two chapters for you to dwell on for the weekend. It's all your fault, you know, now I actually have a PLAN for where this story is going! *smirk* I've at least FOUR more chapters planned. _*not that I don't have ENOUGH to write already!*_ Well, I won't keep you any longer. Please comment…I love you guys! Makes writing all worth while! 

*huggles*

-Melanye

Hoping 

Hours. They've been discussing for hours. How long does it take for him to decide that he wants to help Gondor? I know full well the hurt they'd caused in refusing to aid us at Helm's Deep, but Denethor must have had his reasons. He is, after all, on the front lines of the battle. Perhaps he had none to spare.

My eyes again stray to Legolas as he stands close to but still separate from the deliberations. He is chewing on his nail, nervous. I had never seen him nervous. Even before battle he is always the picture of calm, but now…

His eyes find mine in that intense stare I've grown to love. I know he is reading my mind – he must be, with eyes so deep and wise and searching. Not long can I endure that stare, but somehow I manage to match it with one of my own. Deeper his eyes search, I feel my soul bared before him. _Sweet Valar, I would give it to him…_

The moment is broken as the doors to the hall burst open. Aragorn runs in breathlessly. The Beacons are lit, Gondor is in need. Immediately I look to uncle. His face grim and set, weighted with the responsibility of the decision. Go and fight for the good of all men, or stay and brood over the callousness of another King whose decisions he does not understand. Silently I direct my thoughts to him…willing him to make the right decision. _'Please…please help them.'_ His face hardens, and almost I believe he'd heard me. Then his eyes open and fix on Aragorn.

"And Rohan will Answer!" he responds in a great voice that fills the room with its power. My heart lifts with joy at those words, positively proud to be Rohirrim in that moment. 

Almost immediately Uncle asks the number of men able to go to war. The joy in my heart is quenched by the response. _'Too few…far too few.'_ Before I can think better of it I speak. "Sire, Many of the women have been trained with the sword and bow. We may also be of aid." I feel my hands itch at the idea of holding my sword, raising it over the head of an orc…

"Nay, sister-daughter," he shatters my hopes, "Your place is here. Who will lead our people once the King is away?" I cannot believe this. He would deny my right to help? If he is so concerned for the Kingdom, why does he not make Eomer stay so that I can fight? I open my mouth to protest but he silences me with his hand. "I will hear no more of this. I have a battle to prepare for." I feel utter humiliation as he walks away with the others. Curse my being born female! Then perhaps I would be respected as a warrior! I feel tears well up in my eyes, and angrily wipe them away. 

"He only looks out for your well-being," I hear a soft musical voice behind me. I don't need to look - I know it's him. I close my eyes and bow my head as I feel that voice enter me, soothing my heart with its touch. I know that if I turn I would be helpless against that intense stare, now aimed at my back. I can feel its caress, like the rays of the sun, or perhaps the soothing light of the moon. Then, a feather-light touch on my shoulder. I struggle to restrain the sigh I feel within me. "This may not help," he begins. _'Anything you offer will help,'_ I hear my own thoughts. "But in my kingdom lords and shield maidens fight side by side, for the darkness threatens all." 

_I love you, Master-Elf_

I am barely able to register his words before he is gone. The caress of his eyes gone, leaving me bereft of his warmth. Only when I'm sure I am alone do I raise my hand to touch my shoulder where his hand had been, clinging to the memory of his touch.


	4. Falling

Falling 

Why does it take so long for these Men to come to a decision? If this were my kingdom I'd have been in Gondor two days ago…this is taking far too long.

Resisting the urge to begin pacing, I instead settle for chewing absently at my thumbnail as Theoden and Eomer, as well as several others discuss. Across the room standing as tense and fidgety as I must look, is Eowyn. Her eyes are on me as usual, dissecting my mood with her stare. I look up, catch her eyes with mine and hold them, daring her to look away. It was a game we'd been playing for the past two days – who will speak first? Neither of us have yet. 

My concentration was broken by shouting outside, followed by the doors of the Great Hall bursting open. Aragorn rushed in, shouting with all the enthusiasm I would expect of an Elfling. 

"The beacons! The beacons of Amondine are lit!" He ran directly for the King, stopping barely a handbreadth away from the other man. "Gondor calls for aid!" The hall was silent – completely silent, for an exceedingly long time. I look up and scan the faces of the men around me. All were waiting with expectant hope…waiting for their sire to speak. Eowyn looked to him with almost a desperate plea in her eyes. _'Please,'_ I could hear her directing her thoughts to him, _'please help them…'_ I turn my gaze back to Theoden, looking on that stony face as he weighed the consequences of either course, then finally he met the eyes of Aragorn.

"And Rohan will answer!" he cried triumphantly. Everyone in the room sighed at the declaration, but I noticed belatedly, not all for the same reason.  Most, I could tell, were pleased with the decision, but some I could see, Eomer among them, were not happy. I looked on him and understood – he still carried the bitterness of the men lost at Helm's Deep, when Gondor had refused to help. Now they ride to loose more of their own to defend those who did not give a second thought to their hour of need. He looked at me and caught me staring, and I gave him a sympathetic nod. It would not be easy to come to the aid of those you despise, but he will do as his uncle commands.

The King soon began to discuss plans with his people, trying to get a feel for how many men he had at his command. The number was small. Then, to the surprise of everyone in the room, Eowyn spoke.

"Sire," she said as she approached, "Many of the women have been trained with the sword and bow. We may also be of aid." Theoden was shaking his head before she even finished. 

"Nay, sister-daughter. Your place is here. Who will lead our people once the King is away?" She looked about to answer when he held up a hand. "I will hear no more of this. I have a battle to prepare for." With that he and most of the others in the room departed to plan their strategy, leaving me more or less alone with her. Before I could think better of it I approached, and lost the two-day long game.

"He only looks out for your well-being," I say softly. She nods but does not turn. Her head hung low, and I could see she was trying to hide her angry tears from me. Unsure, I place a tentative hand on her shoulder. "This may not help," I say, "but in my kingdom lords and shield maidens fight side by side, for the darkness threatens all." Then, before she could turn I leave her alone, unable to resist any longer the intense need to pull her into a comforting embrace.  


	5. Watching

Hi all! Sorry for not updating sooner.too many plot bunnies, not enough time to write them down! Only one this time.I would like to post two at a time (both sides of each scene.) but part two isn't done yet, and I wanted to post something so you wouldn't thing I'd forgotten about it! I've switched the order for this one, starting with Leggy rather than Eowyn. His muse just came first. *shrug* Well, enjoy, and I'll try to get Eowyn posted soon. (like, tonight)

-Melanye

Watching

For days we rode towards the Eastfold, to a gathering of the Rohirrim from all over the kingdom. We arrived at the edge of the mountains soon enough, but the nagging feeling of dread would not leave me. Something told me we needed to hurry...something is happening, or is about to happen. I've been on edge for the past week, and it's becoming unbearable.

We stopped to make camp near one of the mountains - the Dimholt. It is a haunted place. I didn't need to hear the stories to know that, I could feel it as we approached, the air is thick with it- even the men sense it. I can't wait to leave this place, but something tells me it is my doom to stay, or go further into it, confront it. I wonder if anyone else feels it too.

The night passed quietly, and I stood outside on watch as usual. I do sleep occasionally, either after a particularly trying day or simply to feel the sense of freedom and peace that it brings, but this night my senses would not let me find that rest. I don't think I would even if I could. Now is not the time for sleeping, when war is brewing and evil is so near. I stand alone, letting Aragorn and Gimli and the others rest and regain their strength for the next phase. It was here, lost in my thoughts, peering into the endless dark of night and overlooking all the camps beyond, that she came. 

I heard her immediately as she stepped from her tent, but gave no sign that I had. I knew what was behind me - there was no threat in that direction, and so felt no need to turn until I heard the footsteps approaching my position. They stopped several feet behind me and all fell silent again. 

"You should be sleeping," I said. I heard the almost imperceptible shuffle of bare feet on stone. 

"I can't." Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, so quiet, yet I hear it as if she were standing next to me. _She's afraid,_ I hear a voice say. The faint tone of fear had colored her speech and I feel the slight pang of worry in my heart. I turn and suppress a gasp as I do. She is standing several feet away from me as I'd guessed, dressed in a flowing white sleeping gown with a white robe over top of it. Her hair was loose and danced lightly in the slight breeze. For a moment, just a moment, she seems to glow in the moonlight. I have to resist the urge to touch her. 

"You fear for your family," I say instead. Bright ocean eyes were hid from me as she lowered her head and nodded. Suddenly the worry in my heart turned to guilt as I watched her turn away, desperately trying to suppress her tears. Unable to talk myself out of it I quickly cross the distance between us and reached out to her. 

Peace, pure peace filled me as my arms encircled her. She turned into my embrace and buried her face in my chest, clutching my tunic as she cried. I'd never heard such a beautiful, heartbreaking sound. I wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, that it would all work for the best, but I had no such words of encouragement and hope. The truth was, I never expected to see my home again. I followed Aragorn into impossible situations, my heart never wavering, expecting to die defending him. The fact that I had made it this far told me that somehow, the Valar still watched out for the firstborn. They do care what happens to us. I wanted desperately to be able to tell her this, to pass on some part of the peace I felt at the acceptance of my role, but could not believe that she would understand. 

"Shhh," I tried to sooth her tears. "I know things look dark," I said. Then I paused, not sure how to continue my thought. Things _were_ dark. There was nothing else to add. I paused, stroking her hair for such a long time that she looked up at me again with big hopeful eyes, begging me to tell her that everything would be fine. Instead I let her go and draped an arm across her shoulders in a sudden inspiration. I directed her gaze to the heavens and pointed. 

"You see?" I began, "the stars still shine, and the moon still waxes and wanes in its proper course." I let my arm fall to my side as I reached my point, and as I spoke it, even I was comforted. "As long as the sun rises and the stars fill the night sky, evil has not yet won. Illuvatar will not abandon his children to shadow." I lowered my head at the revelation, new hope inside my heart at my own words. I gave her one last short hug before stepping back, and she smiled through her drying tears and bowed her head slightly.

"Thank you, Master-Elf," she said, "You have given me hope." I felt a smile work it's way onto my face at her formality and shook my head. 

"Nay, lady," I replied. "My name is Legolas." She lowered her head again in another quick bow before turning and quickly walking back to her tent. I turned back to the stars to resume my watch.


	6. Waiting

Here it is...not one, but TWO new chapters. I had sudden inspiration. The complimentary Eowyn chapter for the next scene should be up soon.

By the way, did I tell you all how much I appreciate the reviews you leave? You people are awesome!

*hugs*

-Mel

Waiting

I can't sleep. No matter how hard I try I can't seem to find rest. We had been travelling for days with the company of the Rohirrim, and each time we'd stopped I'd slept peacefully, but tonight I can't. Tonight we make camp near the Dimholt. 

Ever since I was a girl I'd been told the story of the haunted mountain, how the men had pledged allegiance to the King of Gondor and then abandoned him in his hour of need. The stories always ended with a stern warning to never make the same mistake. When you make a vow you keep it, if you do not wish to join the damned in the mountain. 

But that was not the only thing keeping me from sleep.

Just days from now our people will ride to Gondor, to a battle that may mean the end of Men themselves. A battle I am not permitted to join. A battle in which all my family, all my friends may perish. How is it that my lot is to be the survivor? The one who must stay behind to 'lead the people' as Uncle would have me do? Am I to be doomed to be the caged pet, brought out occasionally to wag my tail and sit by my master's side, and guard the house when he's away? I want more than that. 

With a frustrated sigh I get out of bed. I'm obviously not going to get any rest tonight, and so I might as well do something constructive. Perhaps I'll go for a walk, or begin preparing for the morning meal. I try not to make a sound as I leave my tent, hoping no one will notice that I'm up. The guards will be close by and I don't want to disturb their watch.

I'm halfway to the mess tent when I stop dead in my tracks. Standing before me on sentry duty is Legolas. I freeze, feeling suddenly self-conscious and realizing that I wore nothing but my nightclothes. Hoping that He hadn't heard me I slowly begin to back away before he could turn and see me. 

"You should be sleeping," the soft words grip my heart and squeeze it, and I again freeze in my tracks. I struggle to find voice to answer him, trying hard to sound unaffected by his mere presence.

"I can't." Slightly, very slightly I see his head drop and I knew I'd failed. Scolding myself, I prepare to meet his eyes. When he turned I see a look of surprise on his flawless features. Surprise, or...shock? I watch as his eyes travel down over my body and then quickly back up to my face. I was so concerned with his reaction that I didn't notice that my own expression betrayed my feelings to him.

"You fear for your family," he said. His words hit home, and I realize in that moment that I truly was worried for them. Worried that they may not come home, worried that there will be nothing of Rohan left even if they do. The war may end, yes, but what kind of world would be left when it does? Without warning I feel stinging heat in my eyes and lower my head to hide it. When that doesn't work, and the tears begin to fall I turn away, unable to bear him watching me, weak and crying over such a simple statement.

I turn but I can't move, as my feet feel as if they'd been turned to lead and refuse to walk. As I stand there, trying desperately to not shake with the intensity of the grief that filled me, I suddenly feel soft hands and strong arms envelop me. Without thinking I turn into the embrace, burying my face in his warm chest. The tears came unhindered now, soaking into the soft fabric under my cheek. Nothing else mattered now that he had me in his arms. In that moment the world could end, the Shadow cover all, and it still would not tear me from the warm comforting embrace I found myself in. 

His arms tighten around me as my tears continue, and I feel a gentle hand on my head, soothing away the pain in my heart. My hand reaches up to cling to one of the leather straps across his chest as I feel my knees weaken under me, but I know he would never let me fall. Then I hear his voice, enfolding me in calm like a warm blanket. The tears slowly cease.

"Shhh," he soothes. My emotions immediately obey and I feel the grief subsiding. "I know things look dark." I look up at those words, into his deep blue eyes. Yes, things do look dark, I think to myself, but as long as there is light in those eyes, I will endure it. I must. For Rohan, for my King, my brother...and my elf. Almost as if hearing my thoughts, he turns me towards the still dark horizon. His arm drapes possessively around my shoulders as he points to the stars.

"You see?" he says. I look past his hand to the glittering jewels in the darkness. "The stars still shine, and the moon still waxes and wanes in its proper course." As he spoke the words I saw the great crescent in the sky and turned my gaze towards it. "As long as the sun rises and the stars fill the night sky, evil has not yet won. Iluvatar will not abandon his children to shadow." A strange sense of peace fell over me at his words. I knew of the Elves' belief in the one called Eru Iluvatar, though never thought much of it beyond myth or fairy tale. Hearing him speak of it now somehow made those tales more real. If there was a powerful evil force in the world, would it not make sense that there would be a force of good to balance or triumph over it?

Once more, his arms encircle me in a soothing embrace. He let me go and stepped back and immediately I feel the loss of warmth. Trying to not sound disappointed I speak. "Thank you, Master Elf. You have given me hope." _More than you'll know._

"Nay, lady," he responds with a smile, "my name is Legolas." I have to lower my head to hide the red heat that rose at the words. _He wants me to call him Legolas...like his friends do. He considers me a friend!_

As much as I would love to stay in his company all night, I bow and take my leave, too afraid of crumbling in his presence. There would always be tomorrow. I walk swiftly back to my tent and collapse onto my bed, suddenly very tired.


	7. Leaving

Leaving

An hour later Lord Elrond arrived, bearing news and a gift for Aragorn. In my subtle way I overheard the conversation between Elrond and his adopted son. Soon I heard talk of riding into the mountains. Knowing Aragorn too well, I assumed he would wish to do so alone. Not if I could help it.

I immediately made ready to depart. Packing my few things, I went to the stable and strapped them to Aerod's side, asking his permission to ride him once more. He was afraid, as all were, but I calmed him as best as I could. I then went in search of Gimli. 

The dwarf was already awake, or at least seemed to be. He was sitting outside his tent holding a lit pipe, though his eyes were closed and his breathing came in slow regular breaths. With a smirk I jab him in the shoulder with my bow, avoiding the steady stream of smoke from that infernal pipe as I did. He jolted awake and sat up in his chair, then saw me.

"Bloody hell, Elf, why do you always have to sneak up on me?" he cried. I stood back and crossed my arms, the grin widening. 

"But it's so easy, Gimli," I said. "Besides, you'd fallen asleep with a lit pipe - you could have burnt the camp down." He grumbled and sat straighter in his chair.

"I could have done no such thing! Eh- what do you want, anyway?" My smile faded as I looked around, checking that Aragorn was nowhere in sight before bending low to whisper to the dwarf.

"I think Aragorn is going to try to leave," I said. Gimli jolted with the surprising news, but I planted him back down in his chair and continued in a low voice. "Lord Elrond was just here," I continued, ignoring the look of greater surprise on his face. "He brought with him the sword of Elendil and the tale of the men of Dimholt. Gimli, he's going to go through the mountain to gain the allegiance of the dead." Fear. That's what I saw in his eyes - fear from the dwarf? Unheard of! It was quickly hidden but as I stood I squeezed his shoulder in encouragement anyway.

"We're going to follow him in there?" he asked without looking up. I nodded to myself, reaffirming my own decision.

"Yes."

"He's not going to like it."

"He doesn't have to." That got a chuckle out of him. I smile down at him and nod. "If you see him, don't let him out of your sight." Gimli stuck the pipe in his mouth and sat back with his hands behind his head.

  
"Don't worry, Elf," he said gruffly, "he won't get past me!" Satisfied, I turn to head to the mess tent. Halfway there I stop in stunned silence as I see Eowyn, quite angered, coming towards me. She didn't seem to see me standing there as she rushed by and I took her arm to stop her. 

"Eowyn?" She looked up at my touch and gasped when she saw my face. 

"Legolas...I- I'm sorry." She looked as if she were trying to find words and I frowned at her. 

"What's wrong? You seem angry." She looked up and her eyes hardened once more. 

"Aragorn is planning on going through the mountain!" she stated bluntly. So it _was_ true. "He won't let me go with him. He said it's too dangerous."

"But it is," I said, and immediately regretted it. She looked back at me with what looked like anger.

"But- I thought you, of all would understand!" she nearly shouted. Feeling self-conscious I take her arm again and guide her behind the nearest tent. 

"I do," I say quietly. Her expression softened as she listened. "You must understand how dangerous this is, though. You are the Shieldmaiden of Rohan, Eowyn, your life is important to your people." She cast her eyes to the ground but I lifted her chin with my finger. "Eowyn," I say. Again I look around to see that none could hear my words but her. "There are other battles that must be fought." Slowly, I see her brows rise, first in curiosity, and then understanding. I nod to her when I am sure the message was received before again heading to the mess tent. 

I quickly stow some food in my pack for the journey, as I'm sure Aragorn would wish to leave quickly and unnoticed. As skillful as the Dwarf is at wasting other people's time, I doubted he could hold the man from his mission for long before I arrived. Tying the sack shut, I hurry to Aerod and strap it to his side, before taking the reigns and leading him to where I'd left Gimli. As I approached I could already hear Gimli talking with Aragorn. 

"And just where do ya think you're going?" he asked. I felt a smirk creep out onto my face at his tone. Aragorn sighed.

"No, Gimli, not this time. This time you must stay here." Smirk still firmly in place, I choose this moment to back Gimli up. Striding in behind the Ranger, I grin at Gimli before speaking.

"Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of Dwarves?" Aragorn turned in surprise and chuckled as our eyes met. He looked about to protest further but I raised an eyebrow in challenge and he shook his head. 

"You two will be the death of me," he joked. Then Gimli spoke up behind him.

"Oh, leave that to the Elf with his faulty aim!" I knew it was a joke, and felt the laughter starting in my stomach, but forced it down in an effort to speak seriously.

"You had better take care, Gimli, if you do not want something dire to happen to your beard while you sleep." With a scowl the Dwarf stood, tucking his pipe into his pocket and hefting his pack. I shot him one last grin before mounting Aerod and helping him up behind me. 

A low fog had gathered on the ground near the entrance to the path between the mountains. We steered our horses to it, but they seemed reluctant to touch it. Aragorn and I both whispered soothing words to our steeds, encouraging them to press on. As we did a crowd of the early risers gathered about us, and I heard many frightened and frustrated questions being directed at us, themselves and their sires. The last thing I heard as we entered the dark passage, was a frightened voice crying, "Lord Aragorn! Why do you leave us?"


	8. Following

AN: Sorry for the late update. Been kinda busy in the RW. Hope you like this new chapter...the last two should not be far behind. Thank you all for reviewing and sticking with me this far! You mean the world to me *huggles*

Following

I managed to get an hour's sleep before nervousness and fear again woke me. I lay in my bed, staring at the fabric ceiling above me for a long time, thinking about Legolas' warm arms around me, trying to recall what it had felt like. Never had I known such peace, such love from another. My heart beat faster just at the thought of seeing him again. 

After several moments, I finally get out of bed, finally admitting that I would never be able to sleep soundly so close to the mountain. Dawn would not be far off and so I dressed and headed again to the mess tent. 

As I lit the fires and began to prepare for morning meal I saw a dark cloaked figure pass by the door of the tent. With a frown I peer out to the darkness, but see nothing save for the figure climbing aboard its white horse and departing. As he rode away I see the unmistakable glint of silver clothes as the wind tossed the cloak about. Silver – only elves wear such clothes. 

I turn my gaze to where he had come from and see Aragorn leaving the royal tent, lost in thought. Immediately feeling the need to know what was going on I follow him, cornering him as he began ladening his horse with his things. As I come closer I realize what he's doing – he's leaving. Leaving us. What had the cloaked rider said to him? Where does he go? Then another thought occurs to me, causing my step to falter.

__

Where he goes, Legolas will follow.

I force myself to push away the sorrow the realization causes me and walk closer to confront the Dunedan. He looks up as I approach, and I see him sigh, as if realizing he'd been caught doing something forbidden. I take a breath and step beside him.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask. His mouth moves as if in answer, but no sound comes from him, and I continue my protesting. "The war lies to the east. You cannot leave on the eve of battle. You cannot abandon the men."

"Eowyn...." he steps closer to me but I back away slightly. I will not allow him to sooth my fears...he must be made to see reason.

"We need you here," I continue, but as the words escape my mouth they sound more like pleading than entreating. He shakes his head and again moves closer. 

"We need help. We cannot defeat the darkness with so small an army." I open my mouth to protest, but he raises his hand to silence me. "Help lies in the mountain, if the Heir of Isildur would seek it. I cannot go by another road." 

"Then neither can I," I hear myself say. A look of shock passes quickly over his face which is quickly replaced with cold, stern eyes.

"No," he says immediately, "Your people need you, and it is far too dangerous to challenge the cursed in the mountain. You must stay here." Again I try to protest but his eyes tell me to be silent. Heat rises in my face and I walk away, afraid of becoming more upset with him.

Angerly I stalk through the camp, back to where I had been preparing the meal. Thoughts chase each other through my head. Angry thoughts, crazy thoughts. The idea that I should follow him, or hinder him somehow is most prominent. I continue my dark ranting silently when suddenly I am stopped by a hand clamped around my arm. I turn in surprise and gasp when I am confronted by sea-blue eyes.

"Eowyn," he says. I stare at him for what feels like hours, but was really only a few seconds. His eyes narrowed in concern and I realize how I must look to him. 

"Legolas...I- I'm sorry," was all I could say. I'm not sure what I'm sorry for, but apologize anyway. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, "you seem angry." At first I don't want to say, desiring only to look into those eyes and drown in their sea. Then at once Aragorn's words come back to me and the anger returns.

"Aragorn is planning on going through the mountain!" I say. "He won't let me go with him. He said it's too dangerous." I feel the heat again rise in my cheeks, although whether it was from my own words, or the way the elf was looking at me I can't say.

"But it is," he says softly. His voice is like honey but as the words register in my brain it only serves to fuel the fire in my heart.

"But..." I stammer, "I thought you, of all would understand!" I am about to continue when he takes my arm and leads me behind the nearest tent. 

"I do," he says, softer, his voice like a lover's caress. "You must understand how dangerous this is, though. You are the Shieldmaiden of Rohan, Eowyn, your life is important to your people." I look down, unable to bear those eyes any longer, but he raises my chin with his finger. "Eowyn," he says. I watch with interest as he looks around us for any who may overhear before leaning in close to me. "There are other battles that must be fought." 

At first his words did not make sense to me, as I am left reeling from the sensation of his breath on my ear. I suppress a shiver as I try to understand the hidden message. Then the realization hits me – he is not like the others. He would not patronize me by saying I am too weak to fight. In his land the she-elves fight just as ruthlessly as the warriors. Slowly my heart begins to beat faster as I realize that this is a call to battle. The mere idea that he approves of my need to help sends hope to my heart until I feel it would burst from excitement. My face must have shown my understanding, for he nods to me and leaves me alone. 

Suddenly my mind is working furiously, trying to find a way to follow my heart. How could I ride out to battle without being noticed? I begin walking back to my tent, plotting my escape, when I see a soldier sitting by a dying fire, half asleep. He is in full armor and as I watch I realize I do not recognize him. I know every soldier in this army, at least on sight, but I cannot see who this is. Suddenly a spark of inspiration wells up inside me. 

__

'If I can't tell who it is...neither can Eomer...or Uncle.'

A slow smile spreads on my face. They will not deny my rights this time. I will not be left behind again.


	9. Finding

AN: I thought that since it's been so long since I've updated, I owed you two chapters. Enjoy!

Finding

The journey through the mountain had been dark and terrible. I felt my heart beat faster even as we drew near to its dark door. Unpleasant memories of Moria came to mind, intensifying the fear- deep dark caves with no sound or song of tree and star, and no escape. I had barely survived four days being trapped underground, and now I find myself willing to press on under yet another cursed mountain. A glance at Aragorn beside me, however, renews my strength and will. His face is set and determined and he looks into the inky blackness with a mixture of courage and loathing. 

"I do not fear death!" he hissed at the shadows. The wind picked up as if in answer, whipping our cloaks behind us. Then he was gone, enveloped by the dark void. I clench my jaw and follow, trusting to _Estel_.

After some time we pass through, winning the aid of the Cursed men and leading them to Minas Tirith upon the ships of the Corsairs. We arrived on the shore to find a battle in progress and the walls of the White City falling. Immediately we joined the fray, our undead army with us wiping out orc and fell beast alike. With such aid the battle ended swiftly, leaving behind a field of orc carrion and bewildered survivors.

Soon the long task of cleanup was begun and, after Aragorn had released the Men of the Mountain to their long rest, all joined in the great task. I had elected to help find survivors too weak or wounded to stand. I walked slowly through the field, pulling beast and warrior apart where I found them, signaling for someone to come to claim the body of their honored kin. Several I found who needed help and I gave it, whether it be herb or strength to stand, or simply will to live. _'The battle is won,'_ I repeated, over and over to each of the men I found as I brought them back to the city.

Hours had passed but still there was much work to do. The fields of the Pellanor were so vast that I imagine it would take many days to cleanse them of the defilement inflicted upon them. My heart wept for each felled tree, every burned or torn blade of grass, trampled by the cursed feet of the servants of evil.

__

Anor was low in the sky when I came upon a sight that made my heart stop. I saw a figure sprawled upon the field in the dying light, helm removed and golden hair fanned out on the grass. This I had seen many times that day, for many of the wounded or slain were Rohirrim. This particular fallen soldier, however, was smaller than the others, the slight frame barely filling the armor protecting it.

__

'Ai, Elbereth,, no...'

With a cry I ran towards the prone form, hitting the ground hard as I dropped to my knees beside the glimmering hair. I put my hands on the small shoulders, slowly turning the warrior over.

__

'Sweet Valar, please don't let it be-'

"Eowyn," I choked out, feeling a tightness grip my heart at the sight of her ashen face. Without another thought I held her to me tightly, cradling her limp form in my trembling arms. Then, remembering my errand I gently lay her back on the grass and began to search for injuries. 

There were no wounds that I could see, but her skin was cool and she drew in air with shallow ragged gasps. I despaired that her injury whatever it may be, was beyond my skill to heal, and even as my mind raced for a way to help her the raspy sounds of breath ceased.

In a panic my eyes flew up to search the field for Aragorn or another trained healer but I found none. Looking back down I saw her lips, now slightly blue, parted as she struggled to take in air. In a desperate attempt to do something that may help I did the only thing I could think of. Cradling her head in one hand and her jaw in the other, I pressed my lips to hers, forcing in the much needed air.

At first nothing happened; she lay as still and cold as she had been. I tried again several more times and still nothing. Finally on the fifth try she twitched. Just as our lips touched for a sixth time her eyes flew open and she gasped, stealing the air from my lungs and reflexively raising a hand to clutch my arm. I drew back to allow her to breathe normally, but to my surprise her hand tightened on my arm, preventing me from doing so. Her eyes locked with mine, glassy with fatigue and pain, and we read each other's thoughts as if they'd been spoken aloud. 

__

'You look horrible!' we both heard, although neither of us was sure who had thought it. And then, a strangled plea, small and quiet, but the words echoed in my mind as if they'd been shouted in my ear, imprinted indelibly onto my heart.

"Don't leave me," she gasped. I could barely see her strained expression through my own tears as I smoothed her hair back and responded gently.

"I will _never_ leave you." My voice sounded broken and rough in my ears, causing the tears to fall down my face and onto hers. She smiled weakly and I watched in her eyes as she began to fade again from consciousness. Just before she slipped away into soothing dreams I again pressed my lips to hers, and this time I felt the weak response to my touch. Then I sat back, taking a few calming breaths. After I was sure the flush had left my face I picked her slight form up into my arms and carried her back to Minas Tirith.


	10. Keeping

AN: Sorry for taking so long to update! Too many things going on at once. This is the result of my sixth viewing last night, in honor of the great 11/11 win at the Oscars. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I am considering that if I do indeed continue the story, it will be one more chapter and it will be in third person, somewhat like an epilogue. Please tell me your thoughts on this, for I never really intended this inkle to go much further than this. Anyway, thank you all for reading and commenting, and enjoy the next chapter!

Keeping

As we crested the last hill my heart sank into my boots. The battle was in progress, and the city was taking quite a beating. The entire lower ring was on fire, and the second was just beginning to burn. In front of me I heard Merry's breathing quicken as well as the city came into view. I held him tighter against me, hoping to give him what little strength I had left. 

"Courage, Merry," I whispered, "courage for our friends," _for now I have none._

Suddenly Uncle began to speak, rousing the men and causing a great cheer to go into the heavens that would have caused even Orome or Tulkas to quail in fear. Suddenly I heard a strong, fierce cry coming from the hobbit in front of me and the little pride and courage in my heart was set aflame. I raised my sword and cried out for all I was worth, putting all my anger and fear and dread into that sound. 

The cheering died down and Uncle again started to speak, but this time I knew we would ride into the battle within moments. I could feel Merry shaking under his armor, suddenly aware of this also. Again I held him tighter, and leaned forward to whisper to him. "Whatever happens, stay with me." He nods his understanding and I sit back with a sigh. 

"Ride now! Ride for ruin! For the world's ended!" With the thunder of thousands of horses we rode down the hill into the battle. It didn't take long for the Orcs to get organized and begin firing arrows at us. I rode with growing fear as riders all around me were struck down. At the speed we were going at, even a non-fatal arrow striking a horse could mean the end – the horse would falter with pain, stumble and then get knocked over and trampled by other riders, unable to veer out of the way. It was a horrible and cruel way to die, and I tried not to think about the fact that it could happen to me at any moment. 

We finally made it down the hill and crashed into the enemy. With the strength and speed of our riders, many Orcs were killed just by being trampled by the horse's hooves. Nevertheless, Merry and I drew our swords and held them high as we rode. This would be _our_ battle. No one could tell us to stay home anymore, now we can truly fight to defend those we love. Merry had told me his cousin had been taken here, and was most likely in the city. He would fight for him. I would fight for my family who are all here with me, and my beloved, who I know must be somewhere out here on this field. 

We fight for what seems like forever. Orcs are all around us and their numbers seem endless. They drop easily under my sword, but where one falls two more replace come and attack. Merry does well with his own sword and we move swiftly through the crowded plane. Hours pass and still there's more work to be done. I feel almost on the brink of exhaustion, but just as we begin to think we're making progress I hear a call that freezes my heart in my chest. Another battle horn sounds over the planes. 

We all turn to see a second army arriving, reinforcing the already massive army of Orcs. My heart stops beating. There is no way we can beat them now. This army, who I'm told is the Harradrim, is not only men on foot, but also the great Mummakil. These huge beasts swipe at anyone on the ground with their barbed tusks and huge trunk, clearing a wide path in front of them. 

My first instinct is to run, but Uncle calls for us to reform the lines. With a wavering heart I do so, for even in fear, I still serve my King. The charge is sounded and we take on these foul beasts with swords drawn. At first it seems impossible, but soon it's discovered that the huge beasts have a weakness- if their legs are injured, they will collapse, taking hundreds of their masters with them. With this strategy firmly in place, we begin riding in among the forest of thick legs, striking them where we can. 

Merry and I ride through the legs of one Mumak, striking all four of its legs as we do and causing it to collapse in pain. The huge thing comes crashing down and I barely escape its massive weight alive. As it is my horse is crushed, ending its life swiftly. Suddenly I sit up. I cannot see Merry anywhere. I call for him but receive no answer. With a heavy heart I hope against hope that he had escaped the impact of the huge beast somehow as I get up and prepare to fight again. 

More Orcs swarm the area and I am soon desperately fighting them off. I fight long and hard, putting every bit of training I'd ever received to use in this hour. Suddenly a horribly shrill piercing cry enters my soul and caused me to crouch in fear. A Nazgul flies overhead causing even the Orcs to cry out in terror. I manage to pick myself up in time to see the huge beast bowling into my Uncle and pin him to the ground. The massive dark shape looms over him, its mouth salivating over the thought of eating man-flesh. With a mixture of rage and fear I run as fast as my legs could carry me and plant myself between Uncle and the huge jaw. 

"I will kill you if you touch him!" I cry. The words sound braver than my heart feels, but I raise my sword in challenge anyway. The dark rider hisses words at me that I don't hear so much as feel in my soul.

"Do not come between a Nazgul and his prey!" it seethes. The fear redoubles in my heart, and suddenly the head of the beast comes frighteningly close. Without thinking I raise my sword and sever the foul head with one stroke, the body falling limp and useless to the ground. A small victory, and I feel a little of my bravery return to me, enough to have the sense to pick up one of the discarded shields from the ground in frond of me. The massive dark figure rises from the body of its steed to glare at me, though I see no eyes. Only then do I see the great spiked weapon it bears in its hand. It looks heavy enough to crush a man with a single blow, and now it was going to use it to crush me. I raise my shield as it begins to swing its weapon in the air. 

The weight of the weapon makes his movements necessarily slow, and so I have plenty of time to dodge each attack, but soon his speed picks up and I am fighting to stay ahead of him. The last hit shatters my shield and I realize I'm in trouble. I fall back onto Uncle's prone form as the Nazgul approaches me. His great iron-clad fist clamps around my throat, lifting me off the ground. 

"You fool!" it hisses. "No man can kill me! Die...now...." As it speaks I can feel the cold seeping out through its hand, infecting me with its chill. _'So this is what it feels like to die,'_ I find myself thinking. I feel its hand tighten around my throat and the life draining from me. Suddenly the hand is released and I am dropped unsteadily to my feet. Behind the black shape I see Merry fall to the ground clutching his sword-arm in pain, and I realize that he had stabbed the fell creature to free me. With no time to feel grateful I pick up my sword from the ground triumphantly. Lifting my helm from my head I turn to face my enemy with a grim smile.

"I am no man!" I cry before burying the cold steel into its head as far as I could. As soon as the metal touches my foe I feel an excruciating pain, followed closely by numbness, flow up my arm and through my body. Suddenly understanding Merry's reaction I fall to my knees, even as my enemy crumbles into a pile of rags and twisted metal. Pain such as I have never known assaults me and I fall, praying the agony would stop. I don't know why, but I begin to crawl. I don't see where I am going, but feel that I must get away from where I had felled my enemy. Thoughts of Merry and my Uncle swim in my head, but they are pushed aside. For now all that mattered was to get away from that twisted metal heap that was once one of the most feared enemies of all the free peoples. When at last my strength is completely spent, I fall to the ground in an exhausted heap and let the blackness take me.

The next thing I remember, someone is calling me. I hear my name, and it sounds beautiful, but I can't get to who is calling for me. Try as I might, they're too far away to even see. I realize belatedly that I am dreaming, or at least unconscious. I try opening my eyes but they feel so heavy and sore that even the thought of opening them causes my mind to hurt. Suddenly, a strange sensation. Something invading my body, causing a harsh rasping pain in the center of my being. Air...someone is forcing air inside me, but why? I have gone beyond the need to breathe. If I breathe it will hurt, and so I do not try. Again and again the harsh feeling of my chest expanding and contracting can be felt, until finally my body responds and forces the harsh painful breaths in on its own. I am alive, for now. 

With air now in my lungs I finally have the strength to open my eyes. Before me I see a vague shape that seems to shine with an ethereal light in the darkness around it. My eyes begin to focus on it and I can make out the basic shape of a person. This person tries to draw away, but somehow my hand finds something to anchor to and with all my strength I pull back, forcing the somewhat comforting presence to stay. The blurriness dissolves and I find myself looking up at the most dirty, beat up elf I have ever seen. His face is heavily lined with pain and worry, and suddenly in my mind I hear a thought, in a voice I do not recognize as either his or mine. 

__

'You look horrible!' it says. I look up into his now grey eyes, pleading with me to live. How I'd longed to look into them all these past days we were separated. Now that I finally could, I feel I have not the strength to do so. With the most excruciating agony yet, I will my mouth to open, and words come out. They sound harsh and raspy in my ears, causing pain to them as well, but just the act of speaking to the fair being above me made all the pain worth it.

"Don't leave me," I say pathetically. With all my energy spent, I feel my spirit slipping away again. I try to clutch onto him, to grip his arm tighter, but I've no energy left. I hear his voice in answer, soft and melodious in compared to my own broken words, soothing and comforting all my hurts, causing peace in my heart.

"I will _never_ leave you," he says. With that I finally give into the darkness. He will take care of me, there is no reason now not to sleep, and forget all my hurts. I feel the thick blackness roll over me as my eyes flutter closed, and just before I fall away into forgetful dreams, I feel his lips upon mine, and am loved. My protector, my elf. Mine.


	11. Epilogue

AN: Well, I guess this is it. I just want to take this time and thank every one of you that has read this Inkling- if it wasn't for you, 'Longing' would have been only one chapter! *bows low* thanks for forcing me to explore this pairing. (I quite enjoyed it) I may in the future write a further 'epilogue' for this, but if so it will be posted as a separate story (as it will be a one-shot deelio that can stand alone...I already have the idea floating around in my head, LoL! You've created a monster!) So for this Inkling, this is the end. I don't think I need to say that the most satisfying thing for any Fanfic writer to do is to write those three letters at the conclusion of a well-told story. So, again, thank you all, and enjoy the last chapter. 

Epilogue:

The House of Healing was eerily quiet. The wounded were lain out in the massive room several feet apart from each other, to achieve some semblance of privacy. Most were sleeping or simply resting quietly, others talking softly with visitors or amongst themselves, though their voices were absorbed by the thickly covered walls, adding to the atmosphere of healing calm. 

In one corner of the room where the most privacy was available lay the Shieldmaiden of Rohan. She lay in deep sleep as the herbs and medicines she'd been given finished their work. She lay comfortably on her back with her hands at her sides, her face peaceful and free of pain. 

Sitting beside her was Legolas. The elf had not left her side since she'd been brought in. He had rushed in with her, catching immediately the attention of his friend, and the Dunedan did everything he could for her. He'd noted the strain and worry on the Silvan elf's face, understanding that it was more than mere friendly concern. He loved her, it was plain in his eyes. Aragorn was working now to save two of his friends – the Shieldmaiden on the cot beneath him, and the Mirkwood Prince who stood beside him. After he'd done all he could, he had clutched the elf's shoulder, giving him a reassuring nod. All that was left was to wait. 

And wait he did. Tirelessly he sat by her bed, watching over her, stroking her hair and the smooth skin of her face. He memorized every line on her face, as if one day he would have only that memory to comfort him. The longer she slept the more worried he became, fearing that she may never wake, and that he would loose her to Mandos so soon. His heart ached at the thought, but he pushed it away, not wishing to dwell on such thoughts. He understood that he would loose her eventually, that one day she would slip from this life and he would be alone once again; alone, possibly, to fade from his own life. But that would not be for some time, he told himself firmly. She still had plenty of life in her, life she would share with him.

Several hours after she'd been treated he searched in his pack for his comb. It was special to him, having belonged to Thranduil his father, and Oropher his grandsire before him. It was carved of a precious stone, and he remembered Oropher telling him when he was an Elfling that it had been crafted in the hidden city of Gondolin. Indeed it was a precious heirloom. With this he began to comb her hair, slowly dragging it through her golden locks, taking great care and patience in untangling the shining strands. Not one hair was damaged or pulled, such was the skill of his kind. At last when he finished, her hair flowed from the bed in a shimmering curtain of gold, catching the dim light of the room in its tresses. 

Carefully the comb was stowed away in its place. Gently turning her head to one side, he carefully gathered thin locks of her hair and began to weave them into delicate braids. He followed the pattern that he knew all too well, gracing her with the mark of an elven warrior. Indeed, in Mirkwood none save the bravest and most skilled in battle were permitted to wear this particular style. He focused intently on his task, taking special care that not one hair remained out of place, that not one knot was too tight or too lose, that each plait was in it's perfect place. 

When he finished he sat back with a sigh to admire his work. If any other elf of his realm were to see what he'd done, the braids would swiftly be cut from her, for thus was the punishment for assuming a place of honor one did not earn. The honor was hers, however, and as Prince it was his place to bestow such rewards. He had not seen her victory, nor found any evidence of it himself, but it was the eyewitness account of the hobbit Merry that told the tale of her great valor. This woman before him, his beloved, had slain the leader of the Nazgul with her own sword. Merry had told him the entire story from when she'd picked him up to ride with her, to the end of the battle, as much as he could remember. The entire time Legolas had sat, listening in silent awe. 

Merry himself lay on his own cot not far from the brooding elf. He had taken wound from the Nazgul also but, as were all his kind, he was a resilient hobbit and would not give in to injury so easily. The elf did not worry for his recovery, it was just an accepted fact that he would. Legolas glanced over at him nevertheless, and then sat back in his chair, allowing himself to briefly slip into his own dreams.

He was woken an hour later by a light touch on his arm. He jolted upright in the chair and looked down into those bright ocean eyes he'd grown to love. Bright and clear as the deepest sapphires of the dwarves were those eyes. They met with his and their gazes locked for what seemed like eternity. Slowly he reached out to touch her face, stroking the smooth skin with his thumb, feeling her cheek press further into his palm.

"You didn't leave me," she whispered. Her voice had returned to it's usual light and sweet tone. He smiled at the sound and leaned closer, brushing his hand against her cheek. 

"I could never leave you," he said. "Even now, it pains me to know we will again be separated in just a few hours..." he trailed off as pain filled his heart. Her hand gripped his arm tighter. 

"What do you mean?" 

"_Estel_," he looked to her and smiled at the name. "_Aragorn_, plans a march to the Black Gate." Eowyn's eyes widened with shock. Legolas' hand continued to idly caress her face as he spoke. "As a friend and fellow warrior my heart calls me to his side, but I am torn. My heart wants two things – to ride with Aragorn, and to stay here with you. It is...a painful decision to make, Eowyn." She smiled encouragingly at him and brushed her fingers up his arm, reaching for him. He leaned down and she caught him in a hug.

"I will love you no matter what you choose," she said softly. "Would that I could go with you." He pulled back at her words. 

"No," he said softly, "you must stay here. Even Elven warriors know when it is time to heal," he told her, running a finger over the braids in her hair as he spoke. She raised a hand to touch them and smiled happily. "You've earned them," he said. Just then, they heard a voice calling softly for him at the door. The two looked over to see Gimli waiting for him. Legolas looked back to her sadly. He caressed her face again and tried to keep the finality out of his voice. 

"I must go," he whispered. He watched as her lip began to tremble and ran his thumb along the smooth skin. Before he could stop to think about it he lowered his face to hers and kissed her. Her hands flew up to anchor themselves in his hair as his gently cupped her face, deepening the kiss. Hungry lips practically devoured each other as they kissed with alarming passion, headless of the dwarf at the door waiting for his friend. The euphoria of each other's touch enveloped them both and for that brief moment the war and all the terrible dangers of the world vanished and all that existed was their pure emotion and need. The moment was not to last, however, as the need for air forced them to break apart. Legolas showered her face with small light kisses before rising from his chair. 

"I will return," he declared, still holding her hand, "and I expect to find you here, waiting for me." His words succeeded in forcing a smile on her face and he gently caressed the soft lines on her face before steeling himself to turn and leave her behind. Tears rolled silently down her cheek as she watched him go.

For weeks she waited, pining for her elf as one lost in the desert would pine for water. She would spend long hours standing at the city walls watching for his coming, when she was allowed to leave the House of Healing. The braids that Legolas had woven into her hair had been jealously guarded and she took great care to preserve the mark her lover had left on her. They were washed carefully and bound each night so they would neither fray or come loose while she slept. She wore them proudly and all marveled at them when they saw her. Merry had filled her time with some happiness, for he too had been ordered to stay behind, but by his younger cousin of all people. They tried very hard to forget the peril their loved ones were in, but always the awareness was there and real happiness was never achieved. 

Then, several weeks after their departure, the company returned. Eowyn ran like the wind to greet the heroes as they returned to the city. News of the end of the war and the overthrow of Sauron seemed almost as an afterthought when she was at last reunited with her beloved. He took her in his arms and shamelessly bestowed passionate kisses on her soft lips, raising many eyebrows in the courtyard. Neither cared, for now that all was done they had finally gained that which was most precious to them – each other.

End.


End file.
